


Thirty Pieces

by night_reveals



Series: Face Forward, Walk Blind [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, F/M, Graphic Description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_reveals/pseuds/night_reveals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Derek's first taste of betrayal. He just doesn't know it yet.</p><p>"Derek awakes on a chilled hardwood floor, a black blade sprouting from his chest like a wicked flower."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a larger (eventually Derek/Stiles) headcanon for this show.

Derek awakes on a chilled hardwood floor, a black blade sprouting from his chest like a wicked flower. 

One gasp lets him know where the steel lies, settled harsh between his fifth and sixth ribs, plunged three inches in and scraping at where his heart would be were he human. Gripping it with one hand, Derek tries to wrench it out. It nicks his bone and he howls, sobbing, terror drenching him with the new gush of life. Snot and spit run down his face to drip onto the floor, mixing with what must be his congealed blood, the smell of it thick over his face like a muggy summer’s day. 

He’s inside one of the dilapidated houses that litter the far-west part of town, an area condemned by the city and rarely breached. Memories form a kaleidoscope in his mind, flashing and flashing again. He had been with her, tearing dead creeper vines from windows to smash their way in, exploring. Listening for her heartbeat or her breath is rendered pointless by the rushing of his own life in his ears. Healing is second-nature to his kind, yet Derek is unused to lasting pain, unused to its throb and beat through his body. Every hurt inflicted on him before this sealed itself in seconds, but the wound in his chest is going to take more than that. 

His breaths unsettle the knife, the steel grinding against his bone, bringing him closer to the fluttering darkness he glimpses in the corners of his eyes.

He decides he won’t die here.

Gripping with both hands, Derek wrenches the knife again. His true teeth slide out, puncturing his lip and giving him a different pain to focus on, but it is like comparing the knick of a papercut to a severed limb. The steel saws inside him with every shiver-quick breath Derek takes, as if it has a life of its own that is hell-bent on taking his. 

Mustering all his reserves, he _pulls_. The knife falls to the floor beside him, his fingers senseless with the pain rocketing through his body, heart sluggish and vulnerable. His head falls to the side with a thud. At his right, his backpack gapes open, schoolwork bursting from its middle to form a giant white, lolling tongue.

Kate, he has to save Kate. He has to find who hurt him, who took her. He has to return home to play with his brothers and sisters, and go to the park with Ray from the house down, and run with the Pack, and fish with his uncle, and see the next full moon. He can’t _die_ here.

At his front, his chest begins to knit together, bad-blood bubbling up to course down his navel and run along the line of his jeans. Derek can only whimper. 

When his skin and muscle stop shifting, he sits up on the blood that's creating a carpet on the floor, thick and viscous. All he can smell is it, and her, and critter: raccoon and squirrel and skunk. He sniffs the air. There has been no one here save Kate and he for many years. 

Kate. He has to save her, from whoever took her, and from whoever hurt him. A being with no scent.


End file.
